


Our Kind of Christmas

by UmiKouno



Category: Durarara!!
Genre: Christmas Fluff, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-22
Updated: 2017-03-22
Packaged: 2018-10-09 04:47:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10404282
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UmiKouno/pseuds/UmiKouno
Summary: The last two week in December are surprisingly quiet.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Soo......this was supposed to come out during December but...life. Please enjoy. It is only a few chapters but please enjoy.

            

            Tom looked over his shoulder at one of his oldest friends. Heiwajima Shizuo was dressed for winter in his bartender uniform and a thick scarf around his neck. The tall blonde had already gone through half a pack of cigarettes (a sure sign that something was on his mind). Shizuo usually wasn’t this antsy unless it had to do with his brother or Izaya, and from what Tom heard from the streets, the information broker was laying low.  Still, from the way the blonde giant looked around every corner it was as if he expected company any minute.

                “Hey Shizuo,” Tom stopped walking. “Why don’t we stop for today?” The blond bartender pulled up his sunglasses to look down at his boss. They only had dinner an hour ago, that earned them a few more stops before they ended the day.

                “Is everything alright?” Shizuo asked. Tom adjusted his glasses.  He couldn’t tell him the real reason why he was giving him the rest of the day off could he?

                “Yeah, I have some Christmas shopping to do…” said Tom. Shizuo nodded. Tom started dating the office receptionist a couple months ago, it only made sense that they would celebrate Christmas together. “And I’m sure you have some stuff to do too, right?” Tom continued reading his friend’s face. “You’re taking some days off.  Kasuka taking you somewhere to celebrate the new year?” Shizuo shrugged and lit up another cigarette.  “Well,” Tom patted him on the shoulder. “If I don’t see you before, Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!”

                “You too Tom-san.”

                Shizuo took a long drag from his cigarette. He always took the same days off under guise of spending time with his younger brother.  If it ever got back to Kasuka he would apologize.  What made it worse was he never knew if he would need the days.  _Fucking flea_ , he thought.  Shizuo was close to his apartment when he saw a flicker of light out of the corner of his eye.  Shizuo turned his head to see two red eyes sparkling back at him. Any other time, he would chase the little rat through the streets of Tokyo. Today, he looked around for witnesses before walking over to the alley.  The little shit didn’t wait to meet him there. _That would be too easy._

                “Izaya!” Shizuo called down the dark alley.

                “Shizu-chan…” His enemy’s voice tickled his ear further down the alley.  The tall blonde took a few more steps, keeping an eye out for any possible traps. Suddenly, the little man lunged from his hiding place, knife in hand. The former bartender grabbed the man and slammed him against the wall with one hand on Izaya’s wrist the other around the slender neck.

                “Izaya!” Shizuo growled.  In response, Izaya wrapped his boots around the animal’s waist, tugging him forward. The hand around Izaya’s throat slowly softened as their bodies came in contact. “I told you not to come back here…” Shizuo said softly.

                “If I didn’t, how would I give you this?” The information seller used his free hand to reach into his coat pocket and pull out an envelope. The envelope was plain white with Shizuo’s name written in elaborate English cursive. “It’s that time of year again!” Izaya giggled as he tucked the envelop into the bartender’s vest pocket.

                “You could have called,” Shizuo mumbled.

                “You have no manners at all,” Izaya shook his head in shame. “Hand delivered invitations are always the best.”  Shizuo released the flea’s wrist so it could fall to the side.  “A car will be waiting for you tomorrow morning,” Izaya continued as his fingers straightened the lapel of Shizu-chan’s vest.  “Don’t make me wait.” The smaller man released the captive between his thighs and used his powerful legs to launch the beast back a few steps. It was all he needed to sprint off into the night.

                “Hey!” Shizuo barked out of instinct.  He pulled out another cigarette before opening the envelop. Inside, it held the usual contents: fake ID, American passport, a few other items.  Shizuo blew out a long wisp of smoke looking at the address.

                “At least, I don’t have to get on a plane this time,” Shizuo said as he walked into his apartment building.

 

 

                The following evening, as expected, a sleek black sedan was waiting for him outside his shitty apartment complex. This year Shizuo didn’t receive a package before this little trip, so he wore a nice pair of jeans, loafers, and a loose button down shirt.  The driver kept his head down and opened the car door without a word, to which Shizuo responded with a grunt.  The driver took Shizuo’s duffle bag like it was designer luggage, placing it in the trunk. The car was about what he would expect someone with dirty money would use. Soft leather seats, a mini bar, tinted windows and even a divider to separate him from the driver. The debt collector didn’t want to think about how much something like this would cost to rent. Or what Izaya had to do to pay for it.  He shook his head while sighing. _Can’t think about that shit now._   He turned his head left to find the package he expected.

                Every year was different. This year, a crisp black suit hung on the opposite door. A shoe box sat on the opposite seat with a note taped to the lid.  Based on the box it looked like it came from Italy. He picked up the box to read more of Izaya’s crisp handwriting.

                _Good evening Mr. Smith,_

_You will find that the suit you requested is tailored to your measurements. Please use the car ride to change before your meeting today._

_We look forward to seeing you._

How the flea got his measurements he wouldn’t know.  Shizuo shook his head and opened the box to reveal black leather loafers that looked like they cost more than he made in a month beating broke asses. The car purred to life and tugged him to the first leg of this little journey. The flea always went over the top, no matter what devious plan he concocted. Last year, Shizuo got flowery shirts and khaki shorts in what Izaya called ‘cruise wear’.  The year before that he got a plaid skirt, Izaya called a kilt.   At least he had something other than his uniforms to put in his closet. Shizuo relaxed in the plush seat. He still had five hours before he had to change into the monkey suit.

 

 

 

              Izaya walked down the hallway with his prize in hand. He was rather happy that he decided to take a flower arranging class.  Having a natural eye for elegance it simple for him to design the perfect arrangement for their suite. Life in Tokyo was so hectic that he never had the time to just enjoy something so peaceful as flower arranging. One of his goals for this little trip was to completely forget about his other life for a while.  

                Matsubaya Ryokan was a new hotel modeled after a traditional inn with a few added activities for rich tourists to waste their money. Of course, Izaya didn’t worry about such foolish things like money. He and his guest would receive the royal treatment for the next week because of a few carefully crafted emails. The owner had a nasty little drug habit that would ruin the inn if it got out. Izaya liked planning these little outings.  He finally got to orchestrate a human story where he got to be the star.

                It felt right to wear kimono in Kyoto. In the tradition of a regular onsen, Matsubaya offered the patrons yukata to wear during their stay. Izaya turned in his typical black outfit for a soft, simple coal gray, pine-cone patterned, cotton robe, with matching obi.

                “That was such a wonderful class,” an older woman said as they waited for the elevator.  The woman also wore a gray yukata. From the sparkles on her fingers and around her neck, he knew the woman was wealthy. Most of the people here didn’t know the price of rice. Izaya grew up around these people.  His parents would be these people one day.  Proper society people, who favored a prominent position in the eyes of strangers over silly things like a child’s love.

                “Oh yes,” said Izaya social smile in place. If he really wanted, he could have this woman sign over her fortune with a few well-placed words “And that we get to bring such wonderful things back to our rooms is exciting.” He brought up his display. The old woman nodded and presented her own. They shared conspiring giggle. Polite conversation. Polite laughter.

                “My husband, will like them I hope,” said the old woman. By the sincere question in her eyes Izaya would guess that theirs was an arranged marriage. Children and time did not mean you know the person in the futon next to you.

                “I’m sure he will,” said Izaya. His voice was soft and comforting, as if he understood the burden of a kept, rich, wife.

                “Are you here with anyone?” the woman asked.  The older he got, the more Izaya apparently looked like marriage material to mothers of single daughters. _Twenty-five wasn’t that old, was it?_

                “Yes” he said. “I’m celebrating my anniversary.” The woman’s smile faltered. Izaya smiled. “These are going to be a gift.”

                “I see,” the woman said cheerfully. “Well, your wife is a very lucky woman.” The elevator dinged and the woman stepped out.  Izaya chuckled when the doors closed and wondered what his ‘wife’ would say if Izaya told him that he was lucky. The elevator finally dinged for his floor.  The informant merrily walked down the hallway to the corner suite. He pulled out his room key and scanned into his home for the next week. This room boasted two large bedrooms, a living room, and a private balcony with its own small garden. The perfect place for people to find relaxation.

       Izaya placed the vase on the low table and took a seat beside it.  Said ‘wife’ should be arriving any minute. He wondered if Shizu-chan would play along this time. Sometimes the big oaf would go along with his games; even wearing the outfit Izaya chose.  _It took me hours to pick out that suit_ , he pouted. If Shizu-chan looked half as good as he did in Izaya’s imagination it would be worth breaking into that tear down Shizuo called an apartment to get measurements for the tailor.

                Izaya was thinking about how to swap out some of those ratty pants Shizuo used for work when he heard the door open.  “Okae— “The words dissolved on his lips. His imagination was nothing compared to the real thing.

                Shizuo in a suit cut he very image of Yakuza perfection. The gray pinstripes against ink black made him more streamlined, more modern, if that was possible. He combed his bleach blonde locks so they were slicked back behind his ears and wore his glasses on the bridge of his nose. When he looked up to meet those chocolate-eyes there was boyish mischief. The beast even wore the diamond cuff links Izaya chose. Everything about Heiwajima Shizuo in this moment reeked of dirty money and power. Izaya wanted him.

                Until he saw the beaten-up duffle bag in Shizu-chan’s right hand. Izaya chuckled. There was his Shizu-chan. The debt-collector dropped his bag on the ground before taking long, confident strides to Izaya. How many times had he imagined a scene just like this? Why did Shizu-chan have to be so straight-laced? Shiki-san would easily give him work with Izaya’s recommendation.

                Izaya imagined sneaking glances during meetings. Running off to fool around before a big deal.  Shizu-chan coming home with blood on his hands and fucking Izaya until he beast within calmed down.  Izaya hummed.

                The faux yakuza knelt beside Izaya with a wicked grin on his lips. Shizu-chan’s strong fingers slid up the back of his neck, slipping through Izaya’s onyx locks. The grin spread into a smirk when those fingers tangled, tilting Izaya’s head back to ghost his lips over his prey’s.

                “Tadaima.” His deep voice resonated from his lips into Izaya’s sending a shiver down his spine.

 

         

**Author's Note:**

> Also, selfish whatever, I love you all so much I want us to be friends EVERYWHERE!!! If you feel so inclined, you can also find me at these places :
> 
> https://twitter.com/KounoUmi
> 
> www.tumblr.com/blog/umikouno


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